


A night to remember?

by Blue_Silver



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmare, Strangulation tw, a nightmare and some comfort, brief mention of doing the do, buttloads of self hate tbh, cuddly bullshit, look basically there's some anxiety, passing mention of throwing up, self inserty bullshit, suffocation tw, that's literally it - Freeform, warning: I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Silver/pseuds/Blue_Silver
Summary: A nice night together ends less than favorably, and she continues to doubt herself. See notes after works because I'm a wordy little shit. PS: I welcome and actually invite constructive criticism, you're welcome to shoot me a message on here, or at my email melodyepope@yahoo.com, or at retro-sci-fi-songbird on tumblr, whatever bro.PS: I only rated this teen because I briefly hint at doing the do and I swear like a sailor





	A night to remember?

“That's it, I'm out.” Mel laughed as she threw her cards down on the table. “Well played, Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine grinned, turning to Cullen. “You even kept your clothes this time, Commander.”

Cullen frowned. “I know you have tells, I just haven't figured out what they are.”

Mel clutched her tankard of ale with trembling fingers as she glanced around the table. The tavern was bustling. Somewhere in the din, the Chargers were up to their usual antics, and she could easily pick out Sera's snorting laughter.

While it was nice to have some downtime to spend with the crew, she thought, the longer she was there, the more the walls of the tavern seemed to close in, and the more every gaze seemed to burn through her.

“I, uh, think I should probably leave while I've got some dignity left.”

She stood and her gaze once more traveled around the table to rest briefly on Cullen.

Cullen shot up in his seat, earning him a few poorly hidden giggles from around the table. “I'll accompany you, if you like.”

Mel nodded as she felt her face flush.

The two of them were hardly a secret, but she was still apprehensive any time attention was called to them in public.

She tried to ignore the fluttering in her chest as she and Cullen made their way out to the battlements, towards their respective quarters. When they'd reached the door to Mel's room, she turned slowly to face him. Time slowed to an uneasy crawl.

She chewed her lip, her hand aimlessly twisting around a lock of her hair. It was crisp and windy, the first hints of a light snow beginning to fall. Though the tavern had been crowded and stuffy, she suddenly found herself nervous at the prospect of being alone.

_This is stupid, you've been alone here loads of times._

“Would you... like to come in? You don't have to, I mean... If you've got something else to do....”

“Of course. I was hoping you would ask.”

She sighed in relief, secretly glad he hadn't asked her to elaborate on her nervousness. She wasn't entirely sure she even knew its purpose. Once inside, she lit the fireplace at once with a small wisp of magic, and busied herself with taking off her boots.

 

_What was the plan, once you got him in here? You're not exactly an entertaining host._

“You're being awfully quiet, is everything all right?”

 

_I'm reasonably sure you will vanish like the Fade in the morning, and I know you're sick to death of listening to me whine._

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking about, anyway?”

 

He had divested himself of his armor (a process she still wasn't used to witnessing), leaving him simply dressed. With each of his footsteps echoing on the stone floor, she felt her jaw tighten, felt her pulse quicken; when he sat next to her at the end of the bed, she nearly thought she would jump out of her skin entirely.

“It's fine, really. Nothing to bother you about.”

She waved her hand dismissively, hoping he bought it.

“Unless you're repeating one of Sera's jokes, I'll be fine.”

She smiled weakly. “I keep expecting... all this...” _You_ , she thought. “...to be a dream.”

She turned a little to face him, her nails leaving little crescents in her palms as her hands squeezed into fists. “I'm used to the bottom falling out, so having a little good luck for a change is... unexpected.”

She chanced a glance at his face, which had bloomed with a subtle shade of crimson on his cheeks and the very tip of his nose.

“At this rate, I'm afraid to ask what you consider **bad** luck.”

She laughed but quickly sobered.

 

_Dammit dammit dammit._

 

“I just mean... eh, never mind.”

She began to tremble slightly, deciding she'd blame it on the cold if he noticed.

 

_I mean, it's all been good company up until this point, but you can't just go admitting certain...things without first knowing how he feels... I mean how stupid would you sound?_

  
“You're thinking again.”

He reached over to run a hand through her hair. She felt a wave of nervousness, or thrill, it wasn't clear which. She found doubts from a moment ago silenced by something rare and hopeful within her.

“My hair, it's, uh, getting too long.”

He shook his head. “It suits you, I like it.”

He leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. She tried to ignore the way his eyes seemed to search her face, which was surely bright embrium red at this point, she imagined.

 

“Cullen, I...”

 

He claimed her lips in a kiss, swallowing whatever she'd been about to say. His lips were warm, and smooth, marred only by the scar that intersected them. He pulled back, a sheepish half smile coloring his features. “I'm sorry, was that too much?”

She shook her head. It took several moments until she remembered how to speak. “You can, uh... I mean, don't let me stop you...”

She was sure she had died and ascended as he began to trail light, angelic kisses down her neck, across the delicate cursive tattoos on her collarbone, stilling as he reached the neckline of her blouse.

The uncertainties she'd thought quelled made something of a comeback, and she tried to tamp them down.

“I actually, uh, I admit, it's been years...ages, really... I may as well be untouched for all the experience I have...”

He pulled back a little and rested his hand on hers. “I can stop if I'm making you uncomfortable.”

“I'm horribly nervous.” she blurted.

Her hands ached from clenching her fists so hard.

It felt silly to be wasting thoughts on this, now that they were at this point.

“The last time I, err...in not so many words, I was lucky he was paying me any attention at all, as, err, at this...size.”

Shame settled in her gut like a boulder, and she looked away from him. “It'll... I'll only... get worse without clothes.”

“Bollocks.” he spat. “Whoever that was, he was rubbish.”

She sighed. “He really was, but I can still hear that stupid little prat's voice in my head.”

 

_Why did you bring that up? There goes the mood. You'll be damned if he keeps trying after all the shit you pull._

“Sorry, I've ruined the mood, If you'd rather not...”

“Trying to get rid of me? Try harder.”

She dissolved into a fit of giggles as she shoved him in the shoulder. “I'm serious!”

“So am I.” He leaned in closer, until she could feel his hot breath in her ear. “If you're all right, I'd like to show you how serious I am.”

She blushed even harder somehow, not entirely sure how her face hadn't yet burst into flames. “Err, if you want...”

“Am I to interpret that as a yes?” he purred, gently nipping at her earlobe.

“Err.... I mean, yes.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips met hers again, no less intense than before. She felt his teeth tug on her bottom lip as he pulled away.

“Only one rule then.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“I don't want to hear you insulting yourself.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “That's a pretty tall order.”

“I mean it.”

She sighed. “Oh fine. You make a very convincing argument.”

After all this time, having convinced herself she could go the rest of her life without, it felt nothing like she imagined it would. Having an attentive lover made all the difference. All soft caresses and benedictions, gentle guidance she'd not have expected from someone given the mantle of Commander. Where there was hesitation, a steady hand guided her rhythm. She desperately willed herself closer to him as they seemingly floated away in a haze of afterglow.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

She clapped her hand over her mouth as she realized she'd said the words aloud.

She heard him chuckle as she searched around on the floor for her nightshirt.

“You were wonderful.”

“Really?” she said, having finally located her clothes and returning to the warmth and comfort of her bed.

He settled back into bed, next to her. “Have I ever lied to you?”

She sank into the crook of his neck, her arm thrown across his chest. “You let me win at chess once.”

“That's different.”

“Different my ass.” she yawned, smiling as she felt the unavoidable pull of slumber.

 

 

 

The air was hazy and thick with putrid smoke. Red lyrium crystals where everywhere, their sickening glow reflected in the ankle deep stagnant water she found herself wading through.

 

_I was with someone....who?_

 

She couldn't remember, but they'd gotten separated, whoever they were. With each step, her pulse grew louder and more desperate until she could scarcely hear anything else.

“Is anyone there?”

Only the distorted echo of her own voice answered. Endless stairs she climbed; every endless floor in every endless room was somehow flooded.

 

Then she heard it, a visceral scream, primal and raw, and achingly familiar. Blood froze in her veins. She began to run, water weighing down her clothes and hope in equal measure. At last, in an endless, empty hallway, she came upon a heavy, battered wooden door. She pushed it open, the source of the cry finally coming into view.

Her legs threatened to give out.”

“Cullen?” she cried, voice cracking.

He was in shackles, bound to the heavy stone wall with giant, rusted chains. Grotesque red lyrium crystals grew from his shoulders, and tiny glowing veins framed his now dark crimson eyes.

Chains grated against the stone wall as he raised his head at the sound of his name.

“YOU!” he roared.

She stumbled backwards. “What happened?”

He strained against his bonds, which only just continued to hold. “YOU DID THIS TO ME!”

“What are you talking about?”

“IT'S YOUR FAULT!”

She began to tremble uncontrollably. “I don't understand, what happened?”

“I'LL KILL YOU!”

“I didn't do anything!” she sobbed, taking another step backward. She watched with horror as he strained through and finally broke each of his shackles, one by one. He lunged forward, closing both enormous, red encrusted hands around her throat.

“YOU GAVE ME RED LYRIUM!” he bellowed, squeezing tighter with each word.

Painful pressure began building in her head, and she could hear an eternity between each beat of her heart.  
“I....don't.... understand...”

He jammed his thumbs tighter into her throat. Her trembling legs finally gave out, only the force from his stranglehold keeping her upright.

She wheezed, choking as she felt something warm and viscous trickle from the corner of her mouth. She raised a heavy, shaking hand to his cheek as her body grew limp and her vision faded.

 

She screamed, scrambling out of bed, landing on the floor on her hands and knees.

“Mel?” Cullen mumbled, heavy with sleep.

“Stay away from me!” she sobbed. She wretched; nothing would come up.

He threw aside bedding and nearly knocked over the bedside table to kneel over her shaking form. “What's wrong?”

“I didn't do it!”

She blanched, scrambling backwards until her back met with the stone wall of her bedroom.

His brow furrowed in concern. “Didn't do what?”

Startled anew, she froze, eyes darting frantically around the room. “Red...lyrium, everywhere... my fault...”

“You've had a nightmare.”

He moved to sit beside her on the floor. She shivered but didn't move away. She couldn't bear to meet his gaze, for fear it would still be stained red, full of rage.

She grasped at her throat, scratching it raw, struggling against an invisible grip. “I can't... have this dream again...” she coughed.

“That wasn't me.”

“I can't.” she sobbed the words again and again; even she wasn't sure what she meant.

“You may hate me for saying so now, but I promise this panic will pass.”  
“How do you know?” she accused, scandalized.

“I've been there, that's how.” he clipped back, nonjudgmental but firm.

Guilt flooded her brain. Of course he had. She'd even been present for a couple of those times.

 

_He has nightmares about real shit, and he never fell out of bed weeping about them, either. You're pathetic. Why is he even still here?_

 

She was silent a few moments as she struggled to control her breathing. She glanced out the window. It was the dead of night; not even dim stars or a sliver of moon were visible. It was like looking out into the void, she thought. She stared back at Cullen, her panic renewed. “I can't...shouldn't...nothing...”

She scrambled to her feet, shaking. Still clad in only her nightshirt, she burst out the door into the frigid night. The air bit at her exposed skin, and the stone numbed her bare feet. Hunted by anxiety as a game animal by a hunter, she fled haphazardly across the small section of the battlements that separated her quarters from Cullen's.

 

“Mel?”

Somewhere, far off, she heard him yelling, heard the slap! slap! slap! of his frantic footfalls.

 

She stumbled over something as she approached the edge of the battlements. Her eyes scanned the ground below.

 

_It'd be so easy to leap right off, then you could never hurt him. If you wanted to protect him, you'd do it. You're a tragedy waiting to happen. You'll only drag him down._

 

She heard him scream her name a third time, panic fully extinguishing his usual composure.

“Leave, I'll only hurt you!”  
“How would you hurt me?”

“I'm a disaster, stay away!”

“I promise, this will pass, please don't...”

He reached out a hand, but she backed further into the stone wall, precariously close to the edge. She turned to face him and choked back a sob.

“Nothing will happen to me, I promise! Your mind is lying to you!”

“I can't take that chance! If something happened to you, because of me, I couldn't live with myself, because...”

She gulped, and her panic began to fade as quickly as it had appeared. She stepped a safe distance away from the battlements' edge, but still wore panic and fear on her face.

His expression softened, and he tentatively approached her. She closed her eyes, tears freezing on her lashes as she leaned forward, her forehead touching his chest. “I told you I'd make a horrible mess of things.”

He shook his head. “What?”

Shame replaced the panic that had run away with her yet again. “I... I'm sorry, the anxiety... so quickly, sometimes... forgive me...”

A gust of wind blew. She shivered, and her leg came to life with a burning pain. She looked down, startled to see a sizable scrape on her shin. More of her consciousness began to return as she remembered tripping over something. His gaze followed hers, eyes widening in shock. “Come on, back to your quarters, I can help you...”

“But the healers... I can't ask you to...”

“Wasn't a question.” he quipped. “All that way down to the healers, honestly.”

Though she could walk, she let herself lean against him as they made their way back to her room.

She sat on her bed with a loud, exhausted thump while he retrieved supplies from a cupboard in the corner of her room. He knelt before her, and with a clean,wet cloth, began to wipe away the dried blood from her leg.

“What the hell did I trip over?” she thought aloud. She winced at the sensation as much as the astringent odor of the elfroot poultice he applied. She recoiled, but his firm hand held her leg steady as he bandaged the wound.

“What was all that about?”

He sounded sympathetic, not at all accusatory as she'd feared. “I...” She dragged her hand down her face. “Maker, I don't know what came over me... I guess I didn't want you to see me fall apart again.”

“So lovely when plans backfire.” he mused, returning the supplies to their rightful place.

She laughed weakly, what she'd been about to admit to him returning to her mind. “About what I was starting to say... out there...”

“What about it?”

She scooted carefully backwards to rest against her headboard, desperate to put off saying the words. She felt him nudge her shoulder with his.

“I shouldn't have said anything. Especially not knowing if you...”

He reached over to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Not knowing if I what?”

She sighed in resignation.

“Is something wrong?”

“Maker's ass, no, I mean... I...”

She swallowed nervously, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing his palm tightly. “I...I... oh fuck it, I love you. There.”

She turned away from him but held tightly his hand. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, when she spoke again. “Things have never, eh, ended well with anyone I told so before, so... I guess I thought... Andraste's ass I sound so ridiculous right now. What a farce I've turned this night into.”

“I thought it was obvious, yet you worry so.” he sighed, the hint of a smile on his lips. She turned her head toward his voice but hadn't the nerve to open her eyes.

“I appreciate you trying to shelter me from the more... unpleasant bits, but I'm here to help carry those burdens.”

She felt his hand begin to wipe away the salt streaks from her cheeks, and she finally met his gaze. She opened her mouth to reply, but he didn't pause. “And before you can say 'you can't ask me to', you don't have to ask. I'm a stubborn ass, according to my sister.”

“She's right, you know.”

“Don't you start.” he laughed.  “Perhaps I'm a fool for letting you doubt, for not having said so in so many words before, but... I love you, too.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Tension poured from her, and she let a relieved sigh she hadn't known she'd been holding. “I know I'm apologizing again, but I'm sorry I keep doing this. You don't know how much I appreciate...”

He waved his hand dismissively. “You do the same for me.”

She raised an eyebrow.

A knowing smile bloomed on his face as he leaned in to press the lightest flutter of a kiss on her lips. As she pulled back, she was unable to stifle a massive yawn as the events of the last several hours finally seemed to catch up to her.

“You know, that's not even the worst reaction I've gotten.”

She smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

She pulled the blanket out from under her legs and laid it across them.

“Cullen?”

“Hmm?”

He turned to her, scooting as close as he could as he threaded his arm behind her to rest on her shoulder.

“Will you promise me something?” She bit her lip. “If I start... having the dream again, will you...”

“Of course.”

She finally let her eyes close as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, as I said in my first fanfic on this site, I started writing about Mel Trevelyan as both a shameless self insert that wasn't the inquisitor (because let's face it, even pretend me would lose their shit if they had that much responsibility), and as a weird, roundabout way of trying to handle my severe anxiety. My anxiety usually surfaces as guilt, nothing I do is good enough, everything is going to end badly, the effort doesn't mean shit if there aren't any results, etc. And though I am a loner, I'm pretty touch starved, but I pretty much hate being touched by anyone except a significant other, and I haven't had one of those in, eh, what, 8 years? And I've all but convinced myself that I'm just too fucking weird and too much for another person to handle in a relationship-y way.  
> So TLDR I basically write this stuff as 1, a shameless self insert, 2, a way to handle my anxiety, 3, as an escape, and 4, as a poor alternative to actually having someone to cuddle, but whatever works, dammit. Also, the formatting is shit, sorry


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